This is what I do.

Friday, April 27, 2012

The Man In Green

Written by: Jeffrey Arce

Who is this young man?
This young man in green?
He walks into a room,
His face so young,
Yet so rough and mean.
With all the experiences of a grown man,
But no older than eighteen.
This young man,
This young man in green.
You couldn't imagine all the things he had seen.
All the things he can still see every time he closes his eyes.
The blood still there, pouring from them with every blink.
Just think...
This child has been declared old enough to kill,
But somehow not old enough to drink.
Who is this young man?
This young man in green?
Putting his life on the line,
So that we can continue to sleep soundly and dream.
Now he comes home.
There are no praises, nor cheers, nor joyful screams.
Only a handful of friends and family are there to show him how much he means.
This young man!
This young man in green!
He returns to a world where no one cares.
He returns to a world,
Where their peaceful world is taken for granted.
It is so unfair.
Nobody understands,
The young man.
The young man in green.
The young man who's eyes have seen,
His last drop of blood,
As he turns the gun and rids himself of all the guilt,
All the pain,
All the disregard,
And all of the haunting dreams.
Reminding him of the man,
The innocent young man,
That he used to be.
The man in green.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Poetry

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